Page 65 of Heart on Ice

“Told you last night I would. I promise we won’t drink as much wine tonight as we did last night.”

“Don’t think I’d survive if we keep it up.” I smile as I take a sip of my wake-up cure. My shoulders instantly relax as I take my first sip of coffee.

“I had fun last night,” he says, looking up at me as he takes a bite of his bacon.

“I did too.” I think the wine helped.

“Just like old times.” He grins.

“Yeah. It was. We always did have fun together.” The pang of nostalgia hits me as the smile falls off my face.

“I’m sorry I broke us, Issy,” Pierre says again.

He’s trying. And I can hear the sincerity in this voice. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me.”

“It doesn’t feel like I’ve done enough to make it up to you.”

“Making me dinner every night seems like enough,” I tell him. I don’t want him to keep punishing himself. That is on me, not him. He’s done enough. I do still have hang-ups about him, but he’s not doing anything now to warrant me not speaking to him. His life has enough turmoil in it, I don’t need to add to it. I’ll deal with my insecurities internally just like I have always done.

“That’s it?” he questions me.

“Yeah. I’m a simple girl. Look, I have to run. I have a morning meeting. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about with Marcus and Jordan. Concentrate on finding your next team, everything else doesn’t matter,” I remind him.

“Okay. Let me at least pack you some breakfast to go. Two slices of bacon is not enough for you to go kick some ass at work with,” he says.

“I don’t eat much at breakfast,” I tell him.

“That’s not good. Breakfast is an important part of the day. Let me do this. Food I know.” He grins. Okay, if the man wants to make me a breakfast to go, I’m not one to say no to that.

Pierre: Hey, I’m doing a load of washing. Do you have anything?

Issy: You don’t have to do my washing, the housekeeper does it.

Pierre: You paused her, remember?

Shit.I did too because he was staying there for the week, and now it’s turned longer, I forgot to un pause her.

Pierre: I’m happy to clean the house. I am the reason you don’t have help.

I can’t expect a two-time cup winning hockey player to clean my house.

Issy: You don’t have to do that. I can do it when I get home.

Pierre: After you’ve worked all day. No. I’m here now doing nothing but contemplating how messed up my life is. I need something to do, otherwise, I’m going to go stir crazy.

He is basically in lock down.

Issy: Do you know how to do the washing?

Pierre: I had to wash my own gear growing up.

Issy: Fine. The basket is in my bathroom.

Pierre: *Thumbs up*

I click on my in-home security app to see what Pierre is up to, I don’t want him snooping around my bedroom. I watch the cameras flick through following him as he walks through my home, up the stairs, and into my bedroom. He stops for a moment, taking it all in, he then walks into my bathroom and picks up the overflowing basket. He carries it back downstairs to the laundry room, but I notice he drops a couple of things along the way. He starts sorting through the clothes, separating the whites from the colors before putting a load on. Why is it so hot watching men do household chores? He walks back into the hall and sees the items he dropped. When he picks them up I notice it’s a couple of pairs of my underwear. Oh no. That’s embarrassing. He stares at the white cotton panties, and next thing I know, he is sniffing them. What the fuck? What does he think he is doing? He stops abruptly as if he can sense me watching him, and the next thing I know, he takes a seat on my sofa and pulls his cock out of his sweats. I still. My heart starts beating uncontrollably in my chest, my cheeks flush, and I nervously look around my office wondering if anyone can see the indecent images I do. I shouldn’t be watching. Pierre thinks he’s alone. But then he pulls my knickers to his nose and inhales as he starts sliding his hand over his cock. His hard, thick cock. I’m transfixed by the image on my phone. This is creepy. I shouldn’t be looking, but I can’t seem to look away either. I wiggle in my chair, a deep throbbing ache between my legs. This isn’t good. I’m at work. Now is not the appropriate time to get turned on. My teeth sink into my lip as I watch his veiny forearms tug harshly on his cock as he continues to use my panties as inspiration. This is hot. So hot. Watching Pierre’s dirty little secret. Has he done this before? He must have, he stole my underwear the other night. I should feel violated that he is using my underwear in this way, it’s a breach of friendship, but so is watching your roommate jerk off. We’re even. He continues totouch himself, his hand getting faster and faster, every muscle in his arm and body tensing as he works himself closer to the edge, until he wraps my knickers around the tip of his cock and comes. His eyes are closed, his back arches, those hard biceps straining as he releases himself into my knickers. A filthy, satisfied smirk slides across his lips as he starts to tidy himself up. And now I’m drenched.

I didn’t getany work done today because I couldn’t stop thinking about what I watched earlier. After spacing out in one meeting and having to reread a contract three times, I gave up and decided to leave early. This is going to be an awkward dinner tonight. How the hell am I supposed to look at him across the table when I watched him jerk off over my undies? Maybe I can quickly use my battery-operated friend while he’s preparing dinner, and then I won’t feel so wound up.

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